Ten Thousand Words
by JessBakesCakes
Summary: Through the La Grenouille case, Gibbs and Jenny realize they know each other better now than they did years ago; what about how well they know themselves?


Jenny took a seat, replaying the argument in her head as she finished her drink.

"_You sound like a jealous husband."_

"_How would you know?"_

She'd know because he came so close to being just that. But she'd never let him in on that secret. The power shift in their already strained dynamic would be too much; his ego boost would be worse. With a case like this one, she wanted Gibbs' mind on one thing: La Grenouille.

And still, she could hear his response. Something like, _"That's how you respond to a marriage proposal, Jen? A Dear John letter?" _She could picture the smirk on his face, trying to restore his pride by turning it all back to her and her cold feet.

Jenny wasn't spending 21 hours in Paris like she and Gibbs used to. No one could spend 21 hours in Paris like she and Gibbs used to. They both knew that. Besides, who was he to judge? He broke protocol weekly, if not daily, and he walked around NCIS standing taller after each of his suspects-turned-convicts landed in prison.

She took a sip of the bourbon, satisfied, knowing that Gibbs was just as pissed about La Grenouille as she was. She had done her job; she lit the fire under his ass. So when she heard the front door slam followed by muffled grumbles of "I do what I damn well please," and "I know where she is," she wasn't surprised. Gibbs was back for round two.

"You come back here just to tell me all the other times my eye has twitched?" She motioned toward his abandoned drink, still untouched where he left it. "You're empty handed, so I'm guessing you left the log at home."

"What the hell do you mean, jealous husband?"

Jenny shook her head. "Don't start with me, Jethro. You know exactly what I mean."

"Then I repeat – how would you know?"

"I know_ you_."

"You _think _you know me."

"And what, all those months we spent holed up undercover were with someone else?" She stood up and placed the bourbon on the desk.

"I didn't tell you a damn thing!" His response was louder, almost echoing through the foyer.

Jenny reached for the door and pulled it shut. She crossed her arms and leaned back, raising her eyebrows. "You told me plenty in the bedroom, Jethro. That's all I ever needed to know."

"You steal that one from a Tom Hanks movie, Jen?"

"You spend too much time with DiNozzo."

"Don't avoid the subject. That wasn't a jab to piss me off. That was a sucker punch. Now tell me what the hell is going on here."

"That's funny, coming from the man who left and came back just to fight some more."

Gibbs shook his head. "If you haven't noticed, _Director_, we're in the middle of a case here. One that you've taken it upon yourself to solve, putting this agency in the position we're now in. I don't have time for this crap."

"And yet, all you can think about is my 'sucker punch' of a comment. Perhaps you're the one who has forgotten that we're in the middle of a case here, Agent Gibbs." Jenny moved away from the door and Gibbs threw his hand onto the doorknob, yanking it and exiting the study.

"_If the weapon was loaded, and I wasn't here… would you have pulled the trigger?"_

"_I guess we'll never know."_

She knew. She would have. She and Gibbs were more alike than she cared to admit; both spending their lives unable to let go of the family they lost. Both seeking vengeance. Both seemingly alone. And yet, how serendipitous that they found each other! Jenny placed the now loaded gun back in the drawer, wondering when she became so cynical.

She sat in her father's chair, wondering what he would say if he saw her like this, if he knew what she was contemplating doing. She looked at the clock on her father's shelf before realizing that it had stopped at some unknown point after his death. She hadn't bothered to fix it. It's not like anyone ever worked in there, anyway.

She slipped her hand on the bottom of the drawer, holding it there, wondering whether opening it was worth the risk. She could hear her father's voice in her head: _"Piss or get off the pot."_

It would be nearly impossible to get a warrant at this time of night. Frankly, she didn't care if they ever got one. Enough people were after La Grenouille for him to be dead by morning, anyway.

Jenny yanked the drawer open, grabbed the gun and her car keys, and walked outside.

This time it was a few days before he returned; she knew he'd check up on her, but she wasn't sure when. She knew it was him by the incessant ringing of her doorbell followed by a loud door slam.

"Most people wait for someone to answer the door."

"Yeah, well, nobody was answering."

Jenny sat on the stairs. "Gave Noemi the day off."

Gibbs took a seat next to Jenny on the stairs, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He interlaced his fingers and turned his head to face Jenny. He stared at her for a few moments, and she stared back, wondering if this was some sort of quest to shift the dynamic again.

She broke the silence first. "Don't you have a case to solve, Agent Gibbs?"

"Workin' on it."

"And until then?" She crossed her arms.

"Team's on it."

"And you?"

"What about me?"

Jenny shook her head. "Don't give me that crap. You're here for a reason, now spit it out."

"Official business. Making sure you didn't go rogue. That you took your polygraph."

"Ha! Go rogue. And this is coming from an agent who prides himself on using extra copies of the handbook to heat his house every winter."

Gibbs nodded. "Saves me a couple hundred bucks every winter."

"Don't start with me, Jethro." Jenny stood up. "I took my polygraph. I passed my polygraph. Now, I'm not in the most pleasant of moods, and I don't find your sarcasm charming."

"Oh, so you get to jab whenever you want, but I'm supposed to bite my tongue because you say so?" Gibbs followed her down the hallway.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"You're the one that keeps bringing it up, Jethro. Not me."

"And you're the one who brought it up in the first place. Now, I want to know what you mean, Jen."

Jenny stopped in her tracks. "Do I need to remind you how many years have passed since you and I were in Paris together?"

"Nope."

"Do I need to remind you what my letter said to you?"

"Nope." His tone became less playful and more defensive.

"Then I think the conversation is over."

"Like hell it's over. I know you, Jen, and you don't say things just to say them. Now, I like winning a fight just as much as the next guy, but I want to win fair and square. What did you mean?"

She stared at him, waiting for him to continue, but he had the same idea. His eyes connected with hers, and she knew he could stand there all day without saying a word. But silence always made her uncomfortable, and she conceded first. "You know what I meant by that, Jethro. You're not stupid, and I'm not hard to read."

"So why bring it up now? Jesus, Jen, you know as well as I do that it wasn't just to throw me off."

"May not have been the intent, but it seems I've done a fine job nonetheless. I'm not the one who keeps digging for meaning or answers for all of this."

"That's because you have them already." Gibbs reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a tattered white envelope. He uncurled his fingers, extending his arm and offering the envelope to her.

She gently pulled it out from between his index finger and his middle finger, examining it closely. The envelope had "Jethro", written in her handwriting, on the front. The paper had the slightest hint of yellow due to aging. The top left corner had a coffee stain on it that spread to the top of the "J", slightly diffusing the ink.

Part of her was surprised that he kept it all this time, but part of her wondered why he was so masochistic. She felt her stomach turn a little. Jenny attempted to hand the envelope back to him. "I know what it says."

Gibbs held up his hand, gesturing for her to keep the letter. "So do I."

He watched as she gently removed the letter from the envelope, staring at what she had written so many years ago. She knew what the letter said. She knew that the letter was intended to be the closing of a door; it was intended to be a firm goodbye and it was written as though their paths would never cross again.

But their paths did cross again, and she found herself wondering what things would have been like had she not written the letter. She probably would have ended up ex-wife number two (or three, she reminded herself). She began to read the letter, wondering if it really conveyed the tone of finality that she intended.

"Read it. See what you think." Gibbs placed a hand on her shoulder, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and walked out the door without another word.

She watched Gibbs carefully shut the door behind him, and walked back to the study. She pulled out the chair and sat at the desk, spreading the folded and tattered pages of the letter across its surface. As she read, she could hear a faint ticking sound coming from the shelf. She looked to her right and saw her father's clock, operating as it used to once again. There was a small piece of paper folded and standing right in front of the clock. On the front, she saw her name written in Gibbs' all-capitals chicken scratch.

She reached for the piece of paper and opened it.

_Clock was broken. Fixed it._

_-Jethro_


End file.
